


With Wings of Hope (Extended)

by MarvelousMenagerie (HiddenOne)



Series: Imagine Tony & Bucky fills by hddnone [9]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Knight Bucky, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Prince Tony - Freeform, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-05-21 11:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14914517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenOne/pseuds/MarvelousMenagerie
Summary: ITAB Prompt:knight!winteriron, soulmates, wings? Bonus: imagine pretty pretty princess winteriron.Tony is a prince, and early tests showed his soul marks as red. Bucky is a common born knight with bright blue soul markings on his wings for all to see. Bucky is sure there's no hope of them being Matched...Now with an extension from Tony Stark Bingo, with Tony trying (and failing) to fool his mother for where and with whom he's sneaking off...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at the imaginetonyandbucky tumblr.

“No,” Bucky declares, heartbeat racing.

Steve frowns. “That wasn’t a request.” Steve is resplendent in his uniform, the black outfit contrasting against the enormous brilliant-white wings that are tucked against Steve’s back.

Bucky’s own gray wings - except for the bottom, where they fade to bright blue - twitch until he stills him. He locks his jaw for a moment, glaring at Steve.

Steve doesn’t react except to cross his arms and tilt his chin up. He’s intimidating now, sure, with broad shoulders and muscles bulging on his biceps. He has half a hands’ width of wingspan on Bucky, too, but Bucky can remember those earlier times when Steve was small and shrimpy, getting kicked in the dirt because he hadn’t grown into his wings yet.

Bucky isn’t intimidated in the least, but  _Steve_  is in charge tonight because Steve is the favored knight of King Howard Stark. Bucky doesn’t begrudge Steve the position, doesn’t even want it, but it does mean Bucky has to follow Steve’s orders tonight.

“Fine,” Bucky snaps, wings rustling in anger before he settles them again.

Steve sighs, dropping his arms. “Buck, come on. You know you’re one of the best…”

“Unless you change your mind, I don’t want to hear it,  _Sir_ ,” Bucky replies, slurring the honorific. They’d become knights together, though Bucky had started his squireship first. Steve had flourished under Sir Erksine, working twice as hard for the knight after getting passed over so many times. Bucky had been chosen early by Sir Schmidt, and Bucky had been too eager and excited to become a knight to say no. In the end Bucky and Steve were knights together, though they had vastly different experiences as apprentices. Disrespecting the Sir title came easily to Bucky, given his role model, but it was an insult that Steve couldn’t stand because of his.

It’s not Bucky’s best idea, pulling the insult out now, since Steve’s face loses the little compassion he’d had.

“I’ll see you inside,” Steve bites out and turns away.

With Steve gone, Bucky sighs and lets his wings droop. Guarding the prince had once been his favorite duty, but not tonight. Bucky didn’t want to stand next to Prince Anthony tonight, not when it was Prince Anthony’s -  _Tony’s_  - Soul Matching ceremony. Bucky doesn’t want a front row seat to Tony’s Revealing, where he finds out what color represents Tony’s soul and will come to dust the ends of Tony’s golden wings. Bucky doesn’t want to see who will step forward from the crowd to court Tony with similar colors on their own wings, because it won’t be Bucky.

The atrium is filling with people - mostly nobles, but enough middle and lower class to keep dreams alive - with soul-red feathers. As a prince, Tony had been tested early in puberty and now the results spread so that the room could be packed with a variety of the right type of mates. Red, orange, even purple - any soul colors that had an ounce of red in them would fill the room tonight in hopes of matching the prince.

Bucky, with his bright blue soul and bright blue-tinged wings, now has to watch everything unfold while standing in the front of the room. He would much rather hide in the back and let the fantasy he’d fabricated die in peace.

But Bucky has his marching orders, and so he takes one last look in the mirror and fixes a few errant feathers back into place. Then Bucky turns and strides for Prince Anthony’s rooms, a mask of indifference on his face.

Already waiting on the outside of the prince’s chambers is Sir Romanoff. The bright pink feathers edging the bottom of her wings could’ve made her a potential contestant for the prince’s hand, but she was already mated with Barton, a baron on the outskirts of the kingdom.

She raises an eyebrow when he takes his position on the other side of the door.

Bucky scowls and turns his head away. At least Natasha will wait to tease him until later, her focus on her duty. If it had been Wilson, then Bucky would’ve had to put up with teasing and sympathy in equal parts all night - because of course the whole flock of them knew about Bucky’s feelings for the prince.

The door opens and Bucky’s spine straightens.

Tony steps out, glistening in glittery black fabric. He looks like the night sky, with his golden wings behind him the heralding of the morning sun. Real gold winks from Tony’s wings, light golden chains woven into the feathers. Bucky can’t imagine a more beautiful sight.

“Sir Romanoff,” Tony greets with a smile. “How relieved I am to know you’re here to fight off any overly enthusiastic pursuers.”  Natasha checks that the hallway is still private, and then she rolls her eyes. Then Tony turns to Bucky, and Bucky gets to stare into bright, warm brown eyes and  _imagine_ , one last time. “Sir Barnes,” Tony whispers, eyes wide. Tony opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He nods instead, his wings rustling, and then strides for the atrium.

Natasha raises another eyebrow at him, but Bucky ignores her.

Bucky had first disliked the arrogant, spoiled prince that the king had dropped into Steve’s flock for self-defense training. Then, against his better judgement, Bucky had come to admire the stubborn ass who had matched Stevie’s own determination, as Tony had gotten up and flown again and again and again no matter what Steve or the rest of them threw at the prince. Then… then it had all changed when Tony had cracked a joke and Steve, feathers ruffled, had dragged Tony into the slums, down underground where the poorest lived, and showed Tony first hand the effects of some of Stark policies.

Tony had changed after that, after listening and seeing, and he hadn’t stopped changing, improving,  _challenging_  since then. Arrogant and brash Tony might still be, but there was a heart under it, a big one, and Bucky would never get enough of seeing it. How could Bucky do anything else but fall in love with him? How could anybody else resist?

Still, nothing had happened between them. There was once, an almost, where they landed in a field after a long-distance flight together. They’d brushed wings, on accident and then again on purpose, feathers sliding together. Tony had turned in, Bucky had reached out, and then Steve had landed, calling out to them, and they’d remained… an almost.

The atrium is packed with people, brightly colored outfits and feathers alike. So many wings almost dragged on the ground, piled on with jewels, the wealthy declaring status because they were so rich they didn’t need to fly.

Tony’s adorned chains were light enough to still allow for flight, and Bucky loved him all the more for also loving the air.

Maybe Steve knew what he was doing, not that Bucky would ever admit it, because Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off Tony anyway. Bucky might as well overlap as to actually be responsible for Tony’s safety. All through dinner and the aerial entertainment, Bucky’s eyes stayed glued to Tony’s shimmering wings and brilliant smile.

Then comes time for the ceremony.

Sorcerer Supreme Stephen Strange walks to the front. There are a handful of magicians who travel from village to village to reveal the soul markings of all who are past the age of twenty and still unmarked, as well as take care of any other magical mishaps, but only the Sorcerer Supreme would be fit for the prince.

King Howard and Queen Maria step back, and Tony stands alone, commanding the attention of the entire atrium. Tony smiles, at ease, and winks for the crowd.

“Prince Anthony,” Strange begins, “it is both my honor and duty to reveal your soul markings. Do you consent to your coloring?”

Tony casts a quick glance to the side, and Bucky blinks as they meet gazes once again.

“I consent and will accept my markings,” Tony promises, gaze back on Strange.

Bucky stares, but Tony doesn’t look his way again.

Strange nods and his hands begin to move. “May your colors grown in quickly and remain vivid,” he says in the age-old tradition.

Tony bows his head, as if Strange’s magic weighs upon him. Then Bucky realizes that Tony is simply staring at his chest, where the coloring always starts.

Bucky tries to remain alert for any signs of danger. Now, with everyone fully occupied in staring at Tony, would be the time to stage an attack, but Bucky darts glances back at the growing circle of light in front of Tony’s chest.

At first, Bucky thinks he’s deluding himself with his fantasy again. He blinks and pinches himself, but the bright blue color swirling in front of Tony’s chest doesn’t change to anything with red.

The crowd gasps, whispers starting, and that’s when Bucky starts to believe his own eyes.

Soul markings change in color  _tint_ often enough to be common place. A lightening or darkening of the color is not unheard of. Extreme moments of joy or grief might bring in a slightly new color, shifting a purple to having more of a red undertone, or perhaps introducing more blue into a green. Shifting colors completely from an expected red to a true, vivid blue… That type of color shift is mythical.

“Hmm, that looks ‘cerulean blue’ to me. Do you concur?” Tony asks as he considers the colored ball of light still floating in front of his chest.

“Close enough,” Strange says. “Spread your wings, prince,” and his hands pull apart.

The ball of color pulls apart with them, flying back to coat the bottom feathers on Tony’s spread wings. The color will stick for the first few days, after which Tony’s own feathers should begin to change in color to match. The bright blue feathers - still not red - shine against the bright gold on the rest of Tony’s wings.

“Strange! What happened? This is not even close to the color from before!” King Howard hisses as he strides up to the sorcerer.

The room, supposed to be packed full of potential soul matches to court Tony, are all reds and oranges and purples. None of which are good fits for the bright, vivid blue that adorns Tony’s wings.

“No, it isn’t, is it?” Strange muses, smirk tugging at his lips.

“I’ve changed, Father. A simple explanation,” Tony says lightly. “That test was so long ago.”

Then Tony turns to Bucky, a smile stretched from ear to ear.

“Sir Barnes. Your colors indicate you might be a potential match. Would you do me the honor of a flight?”

Bucky steps forward and takes a knee in front of Tony. He picks up Tony’s hand and kisses the back of it, ignoring Howard’s glare and arched, angry maroon wings. Soul matching are supposed to transcend class boundaries - more of a dream than a reality, an illusion because even perfect matches can be ignored for wealth or propriety - but it is enough to allow a common-born knight the chance to fly with the prince, and Bucky will take it.

“It would be my honor, my prince,” Bucky says, warmth in his tone and in his eyes as he rises to his feet.

There will be more battles to come later. The king and queen can demand more suitors, of proper colorings, to attend to Tony. They can attempt to halt their matching, though Bucky and Tony’s colorings are near perfect. But for now, Bucky takes Tony into the open air of the atrium, and he puts every feather he has, soul-blue and gray alike, into performing the best courtship dance the Stark kingdom has ever seen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tries to sneak away to visit his match, but he can't fool his own mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for my Tony Stark Bingo square: wingfic! An extension from my piece from ITAB, but can be read alone.

Tony dashes down the hallway, his feet quiet on the floor. He would fly, the hallway wide enough for the wingspan of his feathers, but the disturbance of the air currents could alert his pursuers. His _protectors_ are what they’re supposed to be, guards that keep Tony safe, but right now they’re mostly keeping Tony locked up in the palace. Or at least, they’re trying to.

And of course ever since Tony’s Revealing that put bright blue soul-feathers at the tipsof his golden wings, his usual guard had been changed. Tony no longer sees anyone from Knight Steve Rogers’ flock, including and especially Tony’s color-match, a person with near identical bright blue feathers to Tony’s, Bucky Barnes.

Tony hears the rustle of wings coming from up around the corner, and he takes a sharp turn and dives right out the window. Wide open windows dot every room and hallway in the palace, letting in breezes and rustling feathers, and they’re closed only for secret meetings or storms. Using them as entrance and escape routes isn’t polite - Tony was taught at the age of four to use proper doors - but he refuses to be caught, not today.

Tony twists and latches onto the wall, just underneath the ledge of the window. It’s a more dangerous hiding place, but his pursuers would most likely look to the sky, expecting him to fly.

“Do you really believe you can still fool your mother like this?”

Tony’s heart hammers in his chest, and he holds his breath. Maybe she’s only guessing?

Maria sighs. “Tony, please.”

Tony huffs and drops from his position. He lets himself fall for several feet before he snaps his wings open and catches a draft back up. When he reaches the height of the window, he twists and soars back into the hallway.

There he turns and crosses his arms, glaring at his mother. His wings ruffle in displeasure.

“Thank you,” Maria says, calm and proper.

Tony scowls, feeling young and small again.

“I won’t take up much of your time,” Maria assures. “I know you have someone waiting for you.”

“What are you talking about?” Tony asks, faking confusion. His gaze drifts back out the window, and Tony calculates how much time he has left based on the setting sun before Bucky has to be back on duty.

Maria gives Tony a knowing smile. “I loved your father once, too.”

Tony’s shoulders jerk, and he isn’t fast enough to stifle the surprised ruffling of his wings. He looks around and realizes that they’re alone, that there are no guards for either of them. Sometimes Tony forgets at how cunning his mother is, when she stands so often in the shadow of his father.

Still, they never talked about it, not this. They don’t talk about how Maria has to have her soul-feathers painted a deep pink so that her color-match with Howard’s maroon makes sense. Tony had heard the stories about how they were both a brilliant, vivid red when they were younger, but as they aged Howard’s soul-feathers had deepened into maroon and Maria’s into a pinker shade.

Tony had glimpsed his mother’s unpainted soul-feathers once, several years ago, and they had lightened almost to a complete yellow with only the slightest tint of red. A poor match now, with Howard’s maroon feathers, and ground for a separation.

But Howard and Maria were the king and queen. Their separation might disquiet the entire kingdom, and so Maria painted her soul-feathers to align more with Howard’s.

“Your secret grove is not so secret, you know. It’s been there for decades,” Maria teases.

“Mom!” Tony protests, trying not to flush. He certainly doesn’t want to imagine his parents there, doing whatever they did, where Tony and Bucky meet.

Maria smiles and steps forward, taking Tony’s hands. Her wingtips flutter against Tony’s with affection. “I am happy for you, my son.”

Tony swallows, his throat suddenly dry. “You are?”

So far, Tony had been assuming that Maria had disapproved of Tony’s color-match as much as Howard had. His parents always presented a united front, and Howard had been furious when Tony’s soul-feathers had turned bright blue instead of the expected red. None of the potential matches that Howard had packed the room with had matched - all the reds, oranges, and even a few purples were outclassed by Bucky’s bright blue matching soul feathers.

That courtship dance with Bucky had been one of the best moments of Tony’s life.

Still, Bucky is only a knight of low birth. Tony is a prince. While color-matching is supposed to be able to transcend class boundaries, reality often proves otherwise. Which is why Howard is not at home, in the palace. He had taken one of Tony’s feathers - the first shed of Tony’s blue soul-feathers, though Howard had plucked it out of his own accord - and has been carrying it from town to town, calling on his surrounding nobles and lords to see if there was a better, more proper, match for Tony.

“You have a wonderful match,” Maria says, squeezing Tony’s hands, and Tony feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes. “I will do what I can for you. So far, your father has been unsuccessful in finding alternatives. It seems the public have taken to the story of the prince Matching with his knight and are spreading tales of your undying love far and wide,” Maria claims with a smile.

“It’s not, I mean, I do, but -” Tony stumbles, his face flushing. He didn’t think anyone could still make him fumble like this, not with his years of training in court, but apparently his mother retains that ability.

“Keep the story alive, Tony,” Maria urges. “It’s your best defense against your father’s wishes. He’ll come around, in time.”

Tony snorts.

“Give it time,” Maria repeats with a sigh. Then she squeezes Tony’s hands one last time and steps back, wings sweeping back. “Now go, have fun with your match. Though if you’re caught I will reprimand you in your father’s stead,” she warns.

“Isn’t getting caught the easiest way to keep the story of our undying love alive?” Tony sasses. Then Tony soars back out the window before his mother can reply, feeling like he could fly to the sun with his heart so light.

His mother approves. His mother is on their side. Tony is used to being on opposite sides with Howard, or least at odds with him, ever since Knight Rogers had dragged Tony down to the slums and forced a spoiled prince to see what can happen when the policies in his kingdom go awry or aren’t thought out. Before the Revealing, Tony had assumed his parents would approve of whoever his match was and it would be Tony dragging his feet. Now, it’s his parents who disapprove - except his mother! - and Tony who couldn’t be more excited that it’s Bucky who is his match.

“Sorry I’m late,” Tony bursts out when he finally lands in their grove - not his parents’ grove, _never_ his parents’ grove.

Bucky grins, standing and shaking the blades of grass out of his feathers. “Afraid I’d miss you. I have to get back soon.”

“My mom stopped me to talk,” Tony explains as he steps into Bucky’s space.

“Oh?” Bucky says, his shoulders tense.

Tony smiles and tilts his wings back so the tips brushed at the undersides of Bucky’s wings. “She’s on our side. Secretly, sort of, like she won’t say anything in public to contradict Howard, but she approves of you.”

“Really?” Bucky questions, his eyes wide. “Are you sure? The _queen_?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Tony affirms with a warm smile. He steps even closer to Bucky and cards his fingers through Bucky’s feathers. Bucky’s feathers, both the gray and the soul-blue, are dusty from this morning’s training and all Tony wants to do is sit in the grove and groom Bucky’s wings. He wants to run his fingers through Bucky’s feathers and let Bucky relax and melt from Tony’s touch, ignoring Howard and the guard and everything else. But they don’t have time. “She says to keep public opinion on our side, telling the story of our match. How a prince fell in love with his knight protector,” Tony says, rolling his eyes to hide his fond tone, “and that my father hasn’t found anyone else for a match yet.”

Bucky’s wings bristle and then mantle over Tony.

“I won’t step down,” Bucky growls. “Not - not unless you tell me it’s over.”

Tony reaches up on his tiptoes and kisses Bucky, soft but deep. Howard had taken Tony’s first blue feather, which Tony had wanted to give to Bucky. A sign of Tony’s choice, and that Tony is choosing Bucky, but Tony can’t give it until Howard returns with it.

“I’m glad it’s you,” Tony says, voice hoarse. “I want it to be you.”

Bucky cups Tony’s face, and his wings wrap tighter around Tony’s. “Then we’ll make it happen, darlin’. You’re capable of anything. And I want - I want to be beside you while you do.”

Tony smiles, bright and hopeful, and Bucky leans down for another kiss.


End file.
